[i]
Margot gets up and leaves for school. It’s still early. I sit in my chair and watch this news video about the Polish president being ridiculed for standing up against injustice for something. The video turns strange when the Porky Pig cartoon character shows up and in his stuttering voice says, “Adee-ba-dee-ba-dee-ba that's all, folks!” The camera view shoots down through his throat and turns into a sequence of the sun rising. I click pause just as the sun is at it’s brightest. I notice the lack of lighting in my room and attempt to flick on the blue stream lights coiled on the loft bed and click on the triplet light stand, but to my dismay they don’t work. That should’ve been my first sign that I’m still asleep...dreaming. ▬ ○ ☼ ○ ▬
After this realization I become scared...and my only goal is to get these lights on. The darkness is overwhelming. I keep waking up in a jolt but not actually waking up, just waking up back in my dark room in a dream state. I’m alone. She’s not here anymore. I don’t want to be alone. I keep trying to wake myself up. I’m trapped here in a dark psychological trauma. I imagine a big black rat of abnormal size and suddenly there it is scurrying around in my room and pouncing in my direction. I block at it with my hands. It’s understood this rat represents my relationship with Margot. I’m frantic at this point and breathing hard. I start snoring rapidly and as loud as I can with hopes the noise will bring me back to reality. I feel movement under the sheets...and finally awaken.
“Robert, are you okay?”
Phew. It’s Margot. I respond faintly, “What? I had a bad dream. I was just snoring on purpose.”
Her: “I thought you were dying...you were doing that on purpose?”
Me: “I was trying to wake myself up. It was the only way.” I start laughing at how silly I probably sounded. “Sorry if I frightened you.”
...
Back to sleep for a few more hours. Eventually, Margot actually leaves for school around 10:20 a.m. I sleep more...then wake up around noon.
Peanut Butter English Muffin. Orange Juice.
Music file frustration. Something went wrong when I tried to sync the folders.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Oolong Tea.
Grocery shopping with Margot at Food Lion. While there I run into Jimmy Napier and his Vietnamese wife. Mr. Napier was my mother’s first husband to whom they had my sister, way before I was born. But he is not my father. I haven’t seen him in over five years or so. I kind of owe it to him for learning how to play guitar. He taught me a few tricks that got me kick-started into guitar music.
Art picks me up and we duke it out on the Lynnhaven Middle School tennis courts. It’s not cold whatsoever and they re-paved the yard. A whole year has past since my last tennis game but I still hone a few skills. I win the set.
Black Beans and Rice with Sautéed Garlic Broccoli, Onions, and Carrots.
Watching Special When Lit: A Pinball Documentary (2009).
Banana Bread and Coffee.
Having to reorganize music files because of a glitch.
Margot and John Flowers were hanging out. They come grab me and we stuff ourselves with McDonalds junk food using the gift card my dad got me. I already had an upset stomach and this doesn’t help one bit. I observe Margot in the passenger seat as Flowers drives. She cranks up that I Belong In Your Arms song by Chairlift...bobbing her head and swinging her hair. Earlier she had a few vodka drinks, which would explain her touchy feely behavior and careless attitude.
...
Back at her place. It’s good to see John again. I saw him at the birthday party last week. He’s an overall fun dude to hang out with. Margot and I tuck him in on the couch then retreat to the bedroom. She comes on to me in the bed and we proceed with lovemaking. I didn’t realize how drunk she was until now. She says a lot of strange things and I’m sure she doesn’t have a clue what she’s saying...
Her: “Do you want to be here, baby? Do you want to be here?” “What do you want?” “I’ve gotta give you in.” “I have to ruin his life.”
She’s got her cute drunkels face on so none of this is serious. But who was she talking about? Was that some kind of Freudian slip? More likely, just straight up nonsense. The clueless state of an inebriated mind is so strange.
I finish and we sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment